So they kept on; but, as they progressed, the shadows multiplied, for they were the reflections of many Iroquois, hidden among the rushes. The fugitives now saw them, and, heading their canoe for the south shore, fled for their lives.
On, on they went; but, on, on, came the Iroquois. The redskins came nearer and nearer, there was a crash of musketry and the bottom of the canoe was punctured by a ball. The Algonquin fell dead with two bullet wounds in his head, while the canoe gradually filled with water, settled, and sank, with the young Frenchman clinging to the side. Now a firm hand seized him, and he was hauled into one of the canoes of the Iroquois.
The victors set up a shrill yelp of triumph. Then they went ashore, kindled a great fire, tore the heart out of the dead Algonquin, put his head on a pike, and cast the mutilated body into the flames. Radisson was bound, roped around the waist, and thrown down upon the ground, where he lay with other captives: two Frenchmen, one white woman, and twenty Hurons.
In seventeen canoes, the Iroquois now paddled up the Richelieu River for their own country, frequently landing to camp and cook, at which times young Pierre was pegged out on the sand, and left to be tortured by sand-flies and mosquitoes.
When they reached the village, Radisson was greeted with shouts of rage by the friends of the murdered Mohawks, who, armed with rods and skull-crackers (leather bags loaded with stones) rushed upon him and beat him sorely. As the prisoners moved on, the Hurons wailed the death dirge. But suddenly there broke from the throng of onlookers the Iroquois family that had adopted young Pierre. Pushing through the crowd of torturers, the mother caught Radisson by the hair, crying out: “Orimba! Orimba!” She then cut the thongs that bound him to the poles, and shoved him to her husband, who led the trembling young Frenchman to their own lodge.
“Thou fool,” cried the old chief, turning wrathfully upon the young man. “Thou wast my son! Thou lovest us not, although we saved thy life! Wouldst kill me, too?” Then he shoved him to a mat upon the ground, saying: “Chagon—now be merry! It is a fine business you’ve gotten yourself into, to be sure.”
Radisson sank to the ground, trembling with fear, and endeavored to eat something. He was relating his adventures when there was a roar of anger from the Iroquois outside, and, a moment later, the rabble broke into the lodge. He was seized, carried back to the other prisoners, and turned over to the torture. We will draw a veil over what now befell him.
After three days of misery the half-dead Frenchman was brought before the council of the Mohawk Chiefs. Sachem after sachem rose and spoke, while tobacco was sacrificed to the fire-god. The question to be decided was, could the Mohawks afford to offend the great Iroquois chief who was the French youth’s friend? This chieftain wished to have the young man’s life spared. Would they do so?
After much talk and passing of the peace-pipe, it was decided that the young man could go free. The captive’s bonds were cut, he was allowed to leave the council chamber, and, although unable to walk, was carried to the lodge of his deliverer. For the second time his life had been saved.